


forteplay

by heartsfilthylesson



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 01:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/pseuds/heartsfilthylesson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piano is taught a little different at Dr. Lecter's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	forteplay

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a Tumblr ask prompt. Puns are fun.

Debussy plays softly in the background as satisfaction floods his every muscle, creeps into his very bones and curves his lips into a tiny smile. Hannibal watches Bedelia and Will engage in pleasant discourse with approval, with delight almost. The possibilities are etched in the expression in the other man’s face, they echo in her amused voice. It’s a beautiful sight.

Refusing their help, he clears the dessert plates from the low table and returns with a decanter filled with port and three glasses. With the inclusion of the heavy wine, the conversation flows with more ease, the topics steer away from work and education  _(“Physics and Philosophy major.” “I’m not actually FBI.”_ ), and venture into personal territory  _(“I’m the only daughter.” “My dad owned a fishing boat.”_ )

The music stops and, for a moment, the only sound comes from the fireplace. Hannibal is confused when he recognises the next piece, Stravinsky’s Petruschka wholly out of place with the playlist he’d prepared, and he’s halfway off the couch to change it when Bedelia speaks.

“That was the last solo I ever played,” she shakes her head and laughs, it’s louder than usual and utterly pleasant. Tongue loosened by alcohol, she continues. “I was so certain I’d embarrass myself.”

Hannibal nods, understanding. “It is a complicated piece.”

 “Yes and adolescent drama kept me from practising adequately,” she takes a sip of her wine and leans back on the plush couch. “It was an acceptable performance.”

“It  _sounds_  very difficult,” Will interjects with a shrug. “I can’t play anything.”

Bedelia raises a fair eyebrow and rises. “We must change that.”

She walks with purpose toward the grand piano in the room but there’s a catch in her high-heeled step, a slight drunken tilt.  Will hovers, uncertain, as she sits on the bench but Bedelia touches his arm, asks him to join her and he complies. Blonde hair falls into her eyes when she turns to give Hannibal an expectant look.

“Join us,” she says, and who is he to deny her?

The bench is large enough to accommodate the three of them but not without touching. He feels Will’s warmth through the scratchy fabric of his dress shirt; he can smell the gardenia in Bedelia’s shampoo and the bergamot in her perfume. Combined with the less refined scent of Will’s aftershave, it’s almost intoxicating.

Her slim fingers hover over the keys and she purses her lips in thought. She plays the first notes of  _Ah, vous dirai-je, Maman_ and Will laughs. Changing her mind, she stops abruptly and begins  _Für Elise_. “Keep your fingers curved,” she instructs after a few moments and grabs Will’s hands, positions them correctly and places her smaller ones over.

“A step up from Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” Will murmurs. He lets her guide him, smiles whenever his unskilled fingers hit the wrong key.

Hannibal removes her left hand and replaces it with his right. “Allow me.”

Their proximity is overwhelming and, in an uncharacteristic moment of recklessness, Hannibal nips at Will’s earlobe. His low moan is all the encouragement he needs and he licks Will’s neck, strokes his bristly cheek with his free hand.

Bedelia glances at them and, without hesitation, places an open-mouthed kiss on the underside of Will’s jaw. This is what startles him and the jarring noise of incorrect notes fills the room.

Will swallows hard and his words are stuttered. “Wh-what?”

“It’s alright,” she soothes, lips against his throat. He sighs and drops his hand to her lap, finding the warm, soft skin beneath her expensive green dress.

Hannibal turns Will’s face toward him for a languorous kiss as Bedelia unbuttons his shirt. She allows his fingers to stroke her inner thighs for a few moments before removing his hand and placing it on the keyboard again. With a single look, she encourages Hannibal to the same.

The angle is challenging but they manage. Bedelia maneuvers her free hand to the front of Will’s trousers as Hannibal touches her back, fingers spread at the base of her spine.

“Play,” she commands and  _Für Elise_ is heard once more as their hands travel the keyboard. This time, wrong notes are as welcomed as their moans.


End file.
